For All the Moons and Stars
by Daianta
Summary: Thorin is the universe, and Kili is the moon. Thorin isn't sure when exactly they became a part of the galaxy, but the dwarves that watch them are silent stars to an ocean of colours. Slash.


His countenance is shifting, turning, the wheels of a bigger life methodically circling around each corner of each cog.

The pendulum of Thorin's heart doesn't glide easily with every beat, instead choosing to hum a staccato rhythm quietly, near silently. But it vibrates in tandem with the hour in which his lover approaches, in which his Time stands still. He cannot bear for them to be apart, the space between them littered with planets and stars. It is an infinite darkness; he cannot see, he cannot hear, but the light of his sun shows him the way.

Like gravity itself, the two of them are always brought back together.

But it was never going to be easy. Kíli is all but a child alone in the wilderness, dragged on a journey bound by Fate and a duty to his king, his lover and his uncle. The words burn at his mouth, the endless titles and names haunting and firm. But he cannot help himself. Kíli is something else entirely, a new star that explodes amongst the cosmos in an array of colour and sound and vibration, and Thorin's own heart and soul resonates with that understanding. They are two stars colliding, conjoining, until neither know where one ends and another begins.

His brother Fíli may be the Durin line's sun, but Kíli is the darkened moon. A beautiful figure who is always there, gentle when necessary, and silent in understanding. But he is as childish as he is peaceful, and hides a warrior's countenance with the practiced ease of future kings. Thorin wants to see him fall apart under his hands, wants to see him writhe in ecstasy and unbidden joy. He wants Kíli to blabber meaningless words from his mouth as Thorin's own lips drag across his neck.

And his eyes betray his true intentions, for Kíli's eyes are alight with something fiery and bold, and Thorin can feel the intent rolling from him.

He can't let the others learn of their secret; star-crossed lovers in the universe that stands between them. Fíli perhaps wouldn't understand; the relationships that are between them scream against such bondings, but for that, Thorin doesn't care. But he cares for his subject's opinions, for he is a king without a crown, but a king nonetheless. Balin and most of the other dwarves would support him in his decision, once they had seen the true nature of the passing of emotion between the pair.

When he's around Kíli, he feels calmer, more at peace with himself. He forgets they have a mountain to rescue, a home to reclaim. He forgets that Kíli is his sister-son, and Kíli in turn forgets he is but a young dwarf on an adventure he is hardly old enough for.

Thorin presses gentle fingers into the younger dwarf's hair, admiring how Kíli trusted him enough to allow the touch without waking. If he is honest, Kíli is his life. The moon to the Durin line, the colour to Thorin's nebulous universe of blacks and greys.

But he settles next to the man nonetheless, listening to the endearing, tiny breaths that leave Kíli's chest like secrets unravelling. He marvels in the heartbeats that dance a slow crescendo, oscillating with every thump that heart took under gentle skin. He watches as the captivating eyes twitch under gentle lids; dreaming dreams Thorin could only begin to imagine.

He can feel the heat of his nephew through the still of the air, can feel the blazing heat of a dwarf staring at the back of his head. It was about time someone noticed; Kíli wasn't exactly the most subtle of dwarves.

He turns to find Ori sitting on a rocky outcrop, slightly taller than the average dwarf's height, and it allows a little perch in which to keep a watchful eye over the camp. He's holding a wonky quill and a piece of parchment, mouth opened in shock.

It's the first night Thorin has lain with Kíli in a manner that wasn't exactly 'normal.' But then the dwarf regains whatever semblance of dignity he has, and Ori nods to Thorin, once, the barest hint of a smile shadowed by the night and the light of the smouldering fire. The king replies with his own nod, and kisses Kíli on the forehead, smiling to himself as he is snuggled up against. Acting as a barrier against the cold, and from prying eyes, Thorin settles himself in for the night.

And if Fíli sees, well, he doesn't show it, but in the morning he offers them a knowing smile and a thump on his brother's back. The dwarves are perhaps shocked, but they not mention it either, in fact, they take it in their stride. They had always known, had seen it from the moment Kíli was born that something was bound to happen between the pair.

Call it fate, call it destiny, the dwarves did not know. But something much bigger had been played between the sleeping pair; Kíli's moon to Thorin's universe, and the other dwarves were merely watchful stars.


End file.
